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Foundations from Unity The first thing I remember was waking up, in a round bed. Nothing else before, just that. I look around, seeing a large beach, filled with beings like me. There were also six others, similar, but taller than me. There were many greetings, and excitement on the beach. Then the taller beings, the ones in charge, it seemed, called us over to gather around them. We waited excitedly and eagerly for them to speak. One of them, a red and orange one, began talking."This is the island of Mata Nui, named in honor of the Great Spirit." He also went on to explaining who we are, the Tohunga, humble villages of the island. They are the Turaga, the elders of the villages which we dwelled in. He said that we didn't have villages yet, and we are to build them. This lead to a lot of questions for me. Who is the Great Spirit? How do we build the villages, and where? I was abou to find out.The Turaga separated all of us into six groups, for each village. I was disappointed, partly because I didn't have a lot of time to meet the others. However, I was also very happy to have time meeting these fellow Tohunga. Our Turaga led us in further into the island, until we stopped at a large area. It wasn't much, I tell you, but I thought it was perfect. Just perfect.We were to begin building the next day, after we gathered the materials for building today. What materials? The Turaga told is where to find the materials. On the beach, there were large pieces of scrap metal, and those could be used for building. We could also use the material around us, the natural resources that we've been provided. Around half of the Tohunga went to the beach. I stayed, and looked for plants, rocks, anything to build with. The other Tohunga came back, and we slept on the ground for the night.The next day came quickly. I got up, ready for anything, it seemed. I got to work immediately, and so did the others. As I passed on metal, patched up small gaps, and put pieces in place, I felt responsible. Responsible for the village, the construction, and my fellow villagers. Everything was going well until about noon, some of the Tohunga burst into argument. Over small things, but it still saddens me to see the lack of teamwork. Before I knew it, the day was finished and we went to sleep.Again, the sun broke through the night and we went to work along with it. Same thing as yesterday, just work. We worked faster than yesterday, just focusing on completion of it as soon as possible. Another argument. When will this stop? Never? In a minute? Only for five minutes, it seemed. At the end of the day, the Turaga talked. He explained that we were given three virtues to follow. Unity, duty, and destiny. In order to succeed in the last two, we had to be united. That means, no arguing or anything like that. I listened to his words with attention, hoping to follow them.The next few days passed with a blur. No arguments, just work. Until, finally, the village was complete and we could live in it. Every one was talking about it, bunk was thinking differently. I was thinking about the three virtues, and how we did our duty after being united. I was ready for the first night in here.When I woke up, it was dawn. No, not just any dawn, a new dawn. A new dawn in a new village, a new village in the treetops. The Turaga called the village Le-Koro. I like the sound of it, as a reminder of the Great Spirit and his virtues. As a reminder of our hard work. As a reminder of us.
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Valos readjusted his Kanohi Arthron and glanced up at the sky with a sigh. It was a while yet ‘til sundown, but already daylight was fading, veiled by the grey clouds that approached from the North and threatened to unleash their fury on the mountainside. The Av-Matoran chided himself for neglecting to pack a heavier cloak, but little could be done about it now, so far from home. “Not that a little rain will stop us, eh, boy?” he said to the Energy-hound who acted as his mount. The large canid called Axel simply snorted in response and Valos chuckled. “I thought as much. Anyway, we’d best make tracks. We don’t want to keep the villagers of Feoras waiting.” The duo hailed from Anam Nui, a great city that was the successor of Metru Nui as the capital of Matoran civilization on Spherus Magna. Valos was a courier, and on this particular day he was to deliver a number of Kanohi to a mining village far across the mountains in the East. Valos had never made the Eastern-mountains run before, but he was confident that nothing could go wrong. Though it seemed that the storm had other plans. It was soon upon him, rain coming down in torrents as the wind bent the trees and nearly tore Valos’s map from his hands. After a time, the Matoran and his hound came to a stop on a ridge that overlooked a small village that was nestled away almost completely out of sight in the little valley below. “This can’t be right,” Valos said to no-one in particular as he examined his sopping-wet map. “Nowhere on here is this village…” The sun had already vanished in the West and Valos was soaked to the bone, so he decided it was best to stop at least for a little while and rest. Axel seemed uneasy as they approached the village gate, despite Valos’s attempts to calm him, and loosed a low whine when they paused at the gate. “Ho there!” a guard called from the parapet. “What business have you in Eriu so late?” ‘Eriu…?’ Valos thought. He’d heard that name before, but knew nothing of this village. “My name’s Valos,” he told the guard, “a courier from Anam Nui, and in need of some shelter until the storm passes.” The guard ordered the gate to be opened and allow Valos passage. Just beyond, he was met by three cloaked Matoran led by a Bo-Matoran who carried a lantern. “Evening, stranger,” he said cheerfully, “what brings you all the way out here?” “I was on my way to Feoras and lost my way,” Valos explained as he dismounted Axel. “I was hoping someone might be able to point me in the right direction.” “Feoras? That’s only a few hours’ trek from here,” the Bo-Matoran said. “It’d be best if you waited until the storm let up before setting out again, though. Come; we were heading for the Turaga’s cabin just now. She loves to tell stories of the old days on nights like this.” Valos tended to Axel first, then met up with the other Matoran at the home of the village Elder. There were at least a dozen other Matoran there, all Bo-, Le- and Ce-Matoran. Their leader was a kind Ce-Turaga, and she and the Matoran greeted Valos warmly, as though he were an old friend who’d been gone a long time. They spent hours listening to the Turaga’s tales; tales that ranged from her own adventures as a Toa, to tales she heard from the Agori tribes in the South. And at the others’ behest, Valos told a few of his own tales, of some of his misadventures as a courier, and they were delighted to find that he was also a talented artist. He made a small charcoal drawing of the Turaga and presented it to her as thanks for allowing him shelter and a chance to hear her stories. Then, to the villagers’ dismay, he announced it was time he set out again. They helped him pack for the last leg of his journey, gave him directions to Feoras and bid him farewell, and asked that he visit them again soon. He promised he would, and set out into the night, and Axel seemed glad to be moving again, though Valos believed it was simply the storm that had unnerved the hound. By dawn, Valos had finally reached Feoras, and the Po-Matoran who had placed the order for the Kanohi greeted him at the gate. “We were afraid the storm had done you in,” he said. “What kept you?” “I got turned around and ended up in Eriu,” Valos told him as he unloaded Axel’s saddlebags. “Oh, really? Spooky old ghost-town, eh?” Valos paused. “Ghost-town?” “Aye; nobody’s lived there since the war wiped it out. Shame, though. I hear it was a beautiful village back in the day.” Valos said nothing more about Eriu during his time in Feoras, but on his way back to Anam Nui, he made sure to stop by the village again, and was shocked to find that nothing was left of Eriu, save the blackened buildings that made up the heart of the village. As he wandered dumbstruck about the debris, he noted that everything looked older than it should have, as though the village had, indeed, been decimated centuries ago. He soon found himself standing where he and the villagers had gathered to hear the Turaga’s stories, and wondered if he had imagined it all. Perhaps it had been a trick of the light, or his own tired mind playing with his senses. With a sigh he turned to leave, but something caught his eye. He looked up at the only wall that still stood, and there in the middle, protected by a frame and glass, was the drawing he’d given the Turaga.
